


Come Undone

by spiralepiphany



Series: Wicked Game-verse [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Companion Piece, Epilogue, F/F, POV Mikasa Ackerman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23752594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralepiphany/pseuds/spiralepiphany
Summary: There are many things that Mikasa knows she shouldn’t have. But there is at least one thing she should, that she still can.___In which Mikasa reminisces while going for a walk. Mikasa POV companion piece and epilogue to Wicked Game.
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman & Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman/Annie Leonhart
Series: Wicked Game-verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747624
Comments: 58
Kudos: 256





	Come Undone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned in the summary, this is a companion piece and epilogue to Wicked Game, and it is not meant to be read as a standalone without knowledge of the main story. There are many references here to events in Wicked Game, written in a way that assumes readers have read Wicked Game, so if anyone stumbling upon this story hasn't actually read Wicked Game, I highly suggest reading that first before this. For everyone else, do enjoy!
> 
> Please also note that while Wicked Game's ending left a lot of things open, this piece does away with the ambiguity. Mikasa/Annie are the endgame pairing, for real this time.
> 
> \--
> 
> Story title taken from 'Come Undone' by Duran Duran.

“ _Mikasa, you don’t have to.”_

“We’ve already discussed this, Armin. Five o’clock, right?”

Armin sighs over the phone. _“If you insist. Yes, that’s the estimated time of arrival.”_

“All right, I’ll be there. Call me when you’re off the plane.”

“ _You’re sure this isn’t an inconvenience?”_

Mikasa steps out of her house, closing the door behind her. “Yes, it’s a Sunday. I’m going to have lunch with Sasha right now, but I have no plans after,” she answers as she turns the key in the lock, her eyes drawn to the dark clouds overhead. She frowns at the sudden change in the weather, and she must have uttered something with the frown for Armin picks up on it instantly.

“ _What is it?”_

“Nothing. Looks like it might pour, that’s all.”

“ _Huh,”_ Armin replies, continuing after a short pause that may be due to him also scanning the skies. _“It’s fine over here. But that means there might be some turbulence in the flight.”_

“It’ll probably be over by then. Safe journey though. Take care.”

“ _Thanks. I’ll see you later, Mikasa.”_

“Yes. See you.”

Mikasa hangs up, stashing her phone and pulling her scarf up over her mouth as the wind picks up slightly. With haste, she makes for her car, entering and shutting the door just as the first drop of rain hits the windshield, followed by a second, and a third. And in no time at all, those few drops turns into mighty shower. She sighs, this situation certainly putting a damper on her lunch plans. Still, she’s made it into the car unsullied, so she sticks her key into the ignition, preparing to leave when her phone beeps and vibrates in her pocket. She fishes it out to find a message from none other than her lunch partner.

_Mikasa! It’s raining. Come give me a lift?_

She smiles, tapping up a quick _Sure_ before putting away her phone once more to concentrate on driving. But as she flicks the wiper to life and watches it sweep the water away, as she listens to the patter of rain hitting her car, an indescribable sense of déjà vu rises within her. Déjà vu, or perhaps nostalgia would be more accurate. It had been raining that day too when she got the call from Eren. When he asked her for that favour. When she met Annie for the first time. She remembers the rush of cold, wet air coming in when he opens the front passenger door. She remembers his rushed words of gratitude and apology. She remembers him not quite meeting her eyes when a second rush of air whizzes in from the back passenger door. She remembers swallowing her displeasure and turning around to courteously greet her guest. And she remembers how, unlike Eren, Annie’s eyes does not avoid hers.

Mikasa smiles at the memory, and shifts the gear into Drive.

*

“We made it!”

Mikasa narrows her eyes, folding her umbrella as she watches Sasha shake herself down like a furry animal. The rain is only a drizzle now, true, and Sasha pulled up the hood of her jacket too, true, but that is still no reason to go running under it and getting her clothes wet instead of sensibly sharing the umbrella. Chagrined, she slides the umbrella into the holder and leaves her friend by the door as she steps into the warm coziness of the eatery. The fact that they will be parting ways after lunch, meaning Sasha will not be re-entering her car, is at least a consolation. Her head start proves in vain however, for no one could match her friend’s eagerness for food, and Sasha somehow beats her to the table, already flipping through the menu by the time she gets there.

She sighs, unsurprised, and pulls out her chair. “What’s good here?”

Sasha just grins. “Leave the ordering to me.”

“And the bill to me, right?” Mikasa quips back, and Sasha doesn’t even hide her guilty smile. “You recommended this place, shouldn’t you foot the bill?”

“Come on, Mikasa. I treated you the last time.”

“That was ice-cream, Sasha.”

“Very good ice-cream,” Sasha replies, winking. “Plus, you won’t regret paying for this, I promise. It’s Nikolo’s recommendation.”

And then Sasha calls for the waiter, marking the end of the discussion, if there was even one. Mikasa relents, unable to really argue that point. It _was_ really good ice-cream. She sighs again as she takes her seat, but not before she notices the television affixed to the wall at the far end of the establishment. On the screen she sees the very familiar face and the very familiar scowl of her trainer and distant family member, Levi. An image switch quickly reveals why, as the camera now pans over the ring, showing his fighter struggling against their opponent. Although to be fair, even if they weren’t struggling, he’d probably be scowling all the same. At how much faster the fight should be going. At what his fighter should be doing. At what his fighter should _not_ be doing. After all, despite how well she does under his tutelage, despite all the praises Kenny is unafraid to pile on her, she’s never even seen him pleased in all the years training with him.

Turning away from the television, Mikasa settles down in her seat, unfurling her scarf in preparation for food only to realize that the waiter is gone with the order, and she’s missed it all. She watches as the waiter brings the order to the kitchen, sighing for the third time since getting here. It isn’t like she doesn’t trust in Sasha’s taste for food. Not at all. In fact, she’s sure it’ll be really delicious, moreso since this place is apparently Nikolo’s recommendation. And theirs is a bond forged in the love for food that she’s not at all surprised happened. So, rather than the taste, it’s the amount she’s concerned about. She can only hope that it wouldn’t be an amount she’d be uncomfortable paying for. But really, this is Sasha she’s with. Hence the sigh. If Sasha notices it, she pays it no mind. What she does point out though, is the same thing Mikasa already has.

“Ooh, look it’s Levi!”

Mikasa nods, looking at the screen again, where he is still scowling. “Yes.”

It is an expression Sasha quickly takes on herself. “Strange. His fighter isn’t doing too well.”

She waves it off. “Don’t worry. Auluo always bounces back towards the end. He is like that in practice too.”

“Ah.” Reassured then of the outcome of the match, Sasha seemingly loses interest in the television and looks to Mikasa instead. “Fought him before?”

“Just sparring,” she answers.

“And let me guess, he _didn’t_ bounce back and beat you, did he?” It is not a question she needs to answer, and Sasha reads it right from her face with a wide grin. “Still undefeated! That’s my Mikasa!”

Mikasa frowns slightly, not deigning to reply that statement, especially when she’s caught wind of some rumors that ever since Levi started having her spar his professional fighters in friendly matches, Sasha has got a pool going with the rest of their friends over her status. Naturally, Sasha is betting on her. Also naturally, Sasha denies the existence of this pool. But her friend’s ongoing vested interest in this matter, and the exceptionally dreamy sigh in which she speaks with next, says otherwise.

“Will anyone ever defeat you?”

She has considered deliberately losing before, if only to see how Sasha would react to it, but she has never quite managed to make herself do that. Something always drives her to get up again, and win.

“You really should have tried it out last Christmas, with Annie. She was really impressive, wasn’t she?”

Her finger twitches as though jolted by static and she draws in a quick, silent breath. “Annie?”

Sasha does not notice. “Yeah. Remember how she took down Eren? I mean, I know she’s the one who taught him and all, but still. Too bad they broke up already. It’d be weird to go to her just to ask her to fight, right?”

“ _Fight me. Fight me, Mikasa.”_

Mikasa takes another breath, this one longer and deeper than the one before, as she sees it in her mind. Those clear, crystalline blue eyes that doesn’t avoid hers. The hard, determined set in them as they glare each other down on the mat. The stubborn, unrelenting glint that only grows sharper as their bodies wear down. The long looks of what she thought was inquisitiveness, of concentration, of intrigue, as she catches them staring from across the couch where Eren sits right between.

The waiter returns, placing upon the table two glasses of water which Sasha eagerly and appreciatively takes hold of. She flashes a smile at the man, probably hoping to convey ‘food faster please’ together with her gratitude, but Mikasa is quite sure he’s no mind reader. The food will come when it’s done.

“We have sparred before. Annie and I.”

She doesn’t know why she’s saying it. It isn’t necessary, and judging by Sasha’s surprise, glass halted halfway to her lips, she wasn’t expecting that follow up either. But there is no taking it back now.

“Really? You have? When?”

“I don’t remember exactly. But before Christmas.”

“Before...?” Sasha echoes, trailing off with her brows furrowing as though Mikasa had just uttered something completely incomprehensible instead of the two simple lines she did, but with a sudden widening of her eyes, evidently something clicks. Sasha abandons her water with a gasp, the glass hitting the table with a dull thud. “Wait, does that mean...oh my god, is that why you didn’t want to fight her and just pronounced her the winner? Did you fight her and _lose?_ No way!”

The pool must be very, very high indeed for Sasha to be this passionate and panicky about it. Mikasa smiles slightly as she crosses her arms, finding her friend’s outburst rather amusing. She could assuage Sasha’s fears right away of course, but at the same time, there’s no harm in making her sweat a little if only as compensation for being used in a bet. And truth be told, while she did win the bout, she’s well aware it’s only because of the terms that Kenny insisted on as the challenged party. Last one standing. Had they fought on competition terms, the outcome would likely have been very different. She remembers the morning after, waking up with muscle aches like she’s never had before, wondering if the win was even worth it. But she also remembers the almost offended look in Annie’s eyes when Annie realized she’s been playing it defensive, the challenge Annie threw down in response to that, and she just couldn’t make herself lose after that. For her own sake, and Annie’s.

“Hey, Mikasa! Why aren’t you answering me? You didn’t lose, did you? Please tell me you didn’t!”

Sasha’s frantic words brings her back, and the crystalline blues dissipates in favour of teary browns. Mikasa blinks, deciding to end her friend’s suffering but just as she opens her mouth to speak an uproar catches her attention. Her words don’t leave her lips and she shifts her sight sideways, to the television screen where Auluo has his opponent locked in a decidedly uncomfortable submission. His opponent struggles valiantly to escape the hold, his face scrunched up with pain and effort, but it is in vain. He knows it, Auluo knows it, the commentator knows it, she knows it. And then it happens.

The tap. The desperate, repeated taps.

She hears it as though it’s happening right beside her before she realizes it’s not the television she’s hearing, but her memory. Heavy breaths, pounding heart beats, utter confusion but also utter relief as the fight finally, finally ends. And where one thing ends, another begins. She remembers Annie looking away from her, the flush on her face, her slightly trembling muscles. And she wonders if she had actually noticed all of these back then, or if her memory added in all those details knowing what she knows now of what was actually going on with Annie at the time. What courage it must have took Annie to admit it straight to her face, unwavering, undaunted.

“ _I keep thinking of you.”_

She remembers being flabbergasted. When everything else is stripped away, the envy, the resentment, the dislike, that is all that was left. That, and fascination. To hear such words pass through Annie’s lips, she could not even imagine such a thing. No one had ever said something like that to her before. To her face. Inspite of everything that was between them. It was fresh. Flattering even. The fury came later. The fear. The fondness.

“ _Fuck me.”_

“Mikasa? Earth to Mikasa. Hello?”

Sasha is waving her fingers before her eyes, an action she only notices as each moving digit obstructs her view of the screen. Mikasa turns from it then, letting loose a breath she hadn’t realized she’s holding as she answers Sasha’s question. “Yes.”

It is an answer clearly not expected. Sasha frowns, stilling the movement of her hand but not retracting it, and Mikasa counts the fingers held up, wondering if the pool is in fives, fifties, or five hundreds. She almost feels bad for what she’s about to say. Almost.

“Yes?” Sasha repeats. “Yes what?”

“Yes,” Mikasa says, letting her lips curve into a small smile. “I suppose Annie did win.”

*

Pensive only half describes the state in which Mikasa leaves the eatery feeling, although she can’t quite find the words to describe what the other half is either. It’s strange, to not have actively thought of Annie in so long, to not have spoken that so foreign yet so familiar name in so long, and then to be reminded of her twice in the same day. No, she really doesn’t have the words to describe it. Looking across the street, she spots Sasha energetically waving goodbye, no doubt in euphoric bliss after all the food they just had. That is definitely one thing about Sasha that Mikasa has to say she’s glad about, for Sasha’s pestering of her intentionally vague wording of 'suppose' lasted only as long as it took the food to arrive after which it was promptly forgotten. Mikasa smiles, waving slightly in return before quickly turning around to make herself scarce. Her friend is not known for her memory, but she’s not about to test it either.

It’s a short walk to her car though, one that seemed a lot longer previously with the patter of rain on her umbrella. Coming close to the vehicle, she slides her hand into her coat pocket, reaching for her keys within. But what she makes contact with instead halts her in her motions. Looking down, she slides her finger along its length, knowing this item by touch now. Grasping it gently, she pulls it out of her pocket along with everything else its attached to, holding them up in the air as she examines every one.

The seashell keychain that Armin gave to her, a souvenir from his travels to some faraway island. Her all in one car key, the heaviest item in the set. The front door key to her house, linked together with the key to one of the side windows, for emergency purposes. The front door key to Eren’s house, because they used to share the place. And then finally, held between two fingers and her thumb, the motion halting item. Another key, of course, and the only one with an identifier on it. Not that it needs one at this point. Not that it ever needed one. She slides her thumb along the two letter initial written along its body, half erased now from the multitude of times she’s done that very thing.

“ _A key?”_

“ _It’s the key to my front door.”_

This time, she knows for sure that she didn’t misremember the nervous glint in Annie’s eyes, the way her neck tightened just so, how her grin didn’t seem quite so steady. None of those things she would have noticed had she not been so familiar with Annie’s reactions by that point. Had she not known exactly how to make Annie show those very reactions. That’s how she knew there and then that Annie was lying about why she’s giving her the key. But it was a lie she embraced. A lie she welcomed. Because it was simply easier to pretend and to accept all the covers and the excuses. To ignore. Better that than to find herself staring at Eren’s keyring, understanding full well what the emotion that welled up within her was when she found that he really doesn’t have Annie’s key, that Annie had told her the truth, that she really is the only one, whilst knowing, knowing full well that she shouldn’t have felt that way.

“ _Eren.”_

“ _Hm?”_

_She looks away from the keyring to where he’s seated on the couch. “Does Annie have the key to this place?”_

_The question came out from nowhere, and he understandably frowns, but answers all the same. “No. You’ve never seen her let herself in, have you? Why?”_

“ _Nothing,” she shakes her head, glancing again at his keyring, and the feeling balloons. “Just curious.”_

There are many things that Mikasa knows she shouldn’t have. But there is at least one thing she should, that she still can.

Pulling her keys into the palm of her hand, Mikasa looks at her watch, and then up to look at the sky. It’s half past one and the sky is clear with not a trace of the afternoon shower. Remotely, she unlocks her car and pops open the boot, placing her umbrella into her dedicated wet items box before closing the boot and locking her car once more. Taking a last look at the key dangling from her keychain, she stuffs it back into her coat pocket.

“さて.”(Sa te; Japanese for “Now then.”)

She has at least three hours to kill, it’s a good day for a walk, and if memory serves, there’s a nearby park that should do just the trick.

*

“Wha—”

The person manipulating the weight on her shoulders cares not for utterance, wrapping and wrapping as her neck grows warmer and warmer. What is he doing? It was so completely confusing that she senses her tears springing up, but when her lids fall shut her eyes are dry. There are no more tears. She shed them all already, the days and nights sitting next to her parent’s portraits. She couldn’t even muster the energy to be sad, or angry, or hurt. All that’s left is a gaping numbness. And this unfamiliar place is cold and empty. One end of the scarf flies up to cover half her face and she hears herself sob. She wants to go home, sit by the fireplace, listen to her mother’s stories, eat her father’s cooking, and sleep between them under the warm blankets.

But she no longer has a home.

“Mikasa.”

She looks at the man kneeling beside her, his large round glasses and his gentle smile. She looks at the boy standing next to him who has just given her his scarf, the kindness in his eyes.

“Mikasa,” the man, Dr. Yeager, her family’s doctor, repeats. “You’ll come live with us now.”

Her eyes widen at his words, and she doesn’t understand. Why would he say that? He’s a stranger, just a doctor. She remembers that woman, the one with the face much like her mother’s. That woman had seemed sympathetic, looked at her sadly, but all the same Mikasa heard what she said. Heard the hardness in her voice. Saw that she didn’t look back. Understood that she was not wanted. So why would this man offer her a home when her own family cast her out? Left her out in the cold? Rejected her? She had called out to that woman. Asked her not to leave. But here she is alone. Lonely and alone.

“Have that. It’s yours,” the boy speaks next, indicating at the scarf around her neck. “It’s warm, isn’t it?”

She blinks, reaching up to touch the cloth, and then she nods. It is warm. Then the boy grasps onto the sleeve of her shirt, gently tugging her arm forward.

“C’mon, let’s go home. Our home.”

Pressure blooms in her chest, suffocating and uplifting at the same time. She believed that she wasn’t capable of crying anymore, that all her tears had dried up. But when they rolled down her cheeks then, hot and blinding, they don’t stop. Not even when Uncle Grisha holds the door open for her, or when Aunt Carla welcomes her with open arms, or when Eren pulls her in. They don’t stop.

*

Mikasa stares at the line of scarves on display through the window of the thrift shop. Without meaning to, her hand reaches up to curl into the one around her neck and she looks down upon realizing her own action. She smiles, rubbing the cloth of the scarf between her fingers as she eyes the scarf line up again. The one there at the very right end actually looks almost like hers. Same deep red, plain and patternless, it might even be made of similar material. But hers is unique, having been hand knitted by Aunt Carla. Dropping her hand from her scarf, Mikasa tears her gaze away from the display window, resuming her walk.

Hers is irreplaceable.

It’s much thinner now than when she first received it, no doubt from the years of wear and tear, the years of wash and repair. Eren offered to get her a new one once, he even managed to find one that looks like a carbon copy, like the one in the thrift shop, but of course she refused it. Eren is an ocean of kindness, but just as that large body of water cannot notice each individual fish, Eren does not see. He does not understand. What she wears is not just a piece of clothing. What she keeps, is its significance. She did eventually concede to getting more scarves and occasionally rotating their use if only to preserve the longevity of this particular one, but she would never trade it for anything else.

She would keep all its significance if she could. Eren. Uncle Grisha. Aunt Carla. But fate is not kind.

They lost Aunt Carla in a car accident three years after she joins the Yeager household. Both she and Eren had been in the car, and as a consequence, Eren never learns to drive. Uncle Grisha, after she and Eren graduate school and moved to the city together, leaves home to become a perpetual wanderer which she still believes is his way of grieving Aunt Carla’s absence. At twenty-one, Eren declares his desire to be independent and strike out on his own, and so she takes the hint and moves out of their shared apartment.

She had wanted to keep them all. But there is only Eren now. He is the only one she can reach. Just as his kindness first reached her. Perhaps that is why he becomes her everything, that is why she will do anything for him and his sake. To repay her debt of gratitude. Because Aunt Carla said to look out for him. Because Uncle Grisha said to always support each other. Because she loves him.

So why had things ended up like this? Why was it, from the very start, despite wanting to be there for him and protect him always, despite never wanting to do anything that would hurt him, did she always end up doing so anyway?

“ _What is it?” Eren asks, taking his seat at the dining table. “You usually just say what you want to say so this is unusual.”_

_Similarly, Mikasa moves to take a seat as well now that they’re done with dinner, now that she’s done with the dishes, now that they have some free time before she inadvertently has to leave, and she observes him as she does, relaxed in the opposite seat, one hand on the table and the other slung around the backrest of his chair. Relaxed, curious, a little cautious because of her unusual request, but calm. Calm. Now is the time. She has to say it now._

“ _Mikasa?” Eren prods her silence._

 _She steels herself_ _and takes the plunge._ _“I’m sorry.”_

_He only raises a brow. “Sorry? What for?”_

_The tone of his voice is light, surprised, almost ready to dismiss her apology, like he’s sure there’s nothing that she needs to apologize for, like he’s sure that whatever she’s apologizing for is undoubtedly something minor that only she would blow out of proportion. And she’s sorry for that too. That she has betrayed that trust, that expectation._

“ _I know who it was. The person Annie cheated on you with.”_

“ _Eh?” His surprise is stronger now, more pronounced, but he is not springing off his chair, leaning towards her demanding who it is. There’s an eagerness in his eyes, but two months have tempered much of his emotions. He only scoffs, smiling mirthlessly. “What is this? She refused to tell me no matter how many times I asked but she tells you? Why? Friendship? One for one? You told her who you’re sneaking around with so she tells you about this?”_

_She’s suddenly conscious if her neck is showing, but that’s absurd. There are no hickeys to hide this time. And that conversation feels like ages ago. “She didn’t tell me. I knew from the start.”_

_This time he’s really surprised, and he snaps back at her words, frowning hard._ _“What? You knew from the start that she was cheating and you didn’t say anything?”_

“ _I wanted things to work out.”_

 _By sleeping with his girlfriend. Mikasa bites the inside of her cheek_ _as that thought surfaces,_ _resisting an urge to laugh at herself because that line of reasoning isn’t logical at all. It is beyond illogical. How had she convinced herself of that? How could she possibly tell him exactly that? He will not get it, and she cannot expect him to. If she heard it now as a third party, if someone told her they had slept with another person’s partner so that the partner would stay with them, she’d surely think one or both of them were idiots._

“ _Yeah, me too. But it didn’t.” Eren’s reply brings her back to the room and away from_ _late night roadside arguments._ _He sounds resigned to the fact, but his voice is still pained. “And? Why are you bringing this up now? She didn’t want me to know.”_

“ _I want you to know.”_

“ _You want me to know? Did she tell you to tell me? What gives you the right?”_

 _Anger begins to creep around his face, but not anger at the cheating, nor at the fact that she apparently knew all along. It is anger that she’s about to reveal something Annie didn’t want him to know, because despite it all, he still holds her in high regard. He respects her wishes, even if it took him time to get here._ _Good thing then that this will hurt her more than it does Annie. Dropping her gaze to the table, she contemplates for the last time whether to go through with this. But she hasn’t come all this way, opened up this can of worms, just to retreat here. If she’s already an idiot anyway, she may as well be an honest one._

“ _I have the right.”_

“ _Why?”_

“ _Because it was me.”_

*

She can’t recall now if there had been a specific point where it started, or if it was an accumulated effect from the beginning. What she does know is that school made it really apparent, with its grading and rankings and exams, and school was one of the first things they integrated her into. They were all worried for her, on whether she’d adjust well to the new environment, new school, new home, new family, new friends, but despite joining in halfway through the school year, the first report card she brings home marked her top of the class. In all of her classes, both academic and sports. Across all of the year.

It was both a surprise and relief, even for herself, but she welcomed it, quickly realizing that that there was how she would repay them for taking her in. By doing well in school, helping out around the house, staying out of trouble, looking out for Eren, everything a good daughter should be and do. Uncle Grisha and Aunt Carla had nothing but praises for her, even Eren was proud of her at first. Happy at how well she was adjusting to life with them. When she attained the same degree of proficiency in French that took him a year in only three months and Uncle Grisha extolled her for it, called her exceptional, he beamed as well. They spent that entire day talking in French, even in school. It confused Armin to no end, but it was fun.

She loves those early days, those carefree days, but such moments rarely lasts. It reminds her of what her mother used to tell her about sakura blooms, of their transient beauty, of her promise that they would see them together.

Had she known how it would turn out, would she have done anything differently? Not likely, really, so perhaps this was how things are meant to be. Because from the moment she met Armin, he too became her friend, and for him too, she would protect and defend. Anything less didn’t make sense to her. So the neighbourhood bullies who targeted his mild and gentle nature, she did not hesitate to mess up, even if she had never before got into a fight prior to that. And if they came back for more another day, so did she. Again and again, it didn’t matter how many times. Together with Eren, she would never tire from helping Armin.

If she had to pinpoint a specific point where it started, it was probably there, with Armin’s bullies. Because Eren had been there fighting them off for far longer than her inclusion in the group, with varying degrees of success, but the moment she appeared, it turned the tides. Never before did Eren decisively win against them, but with her help he did. Never before did Eren manage to intimidate them away without coming to blows, but with her presence he did. Never before did Eren recover from a ganging up and sent them scampering away, but with her arrival he did.

She didn’t realize then what it was doing to him. She didn’t realize that she had misread the cause of the growing fury in his eyes. But how could she, when neither could Armin? And when Armin tried to sooth him, when Armin showed appreciation to her, it only got worse. It was the catalyst, turning everything into quiet competition. Every accomplishment, every well done task, where Eren used to smile and share in her joy, now he glowered. Resented. It both troubled and frustrated her in the same vein. Was it not a good thing that they were now successfully defending Armin? Was it not a good thing that she wants to show those who took her in that she’s worth it, that she’s not a burden?

Well, she wasn’t about to stop fighting Armin’s bullies, that’s ridiculous, and she wasn’t about to deliberately flunk her grades, that’s equally ridiculous, but otherwise she did try. Choosing different things from him, be it clubs or sports, dropping things that he liked too, be it hobbies or interests. But it was all in vain, as she later finds out, because he wasn’t upset that she was besting him, he’s upset that she was good at things, even when he didn’t care for those things. Aunt Carla tried to scold him out of it when she noticed, so did Armin when he realized, but Eren was nothing if not set in his ways, and their words fell on deaf ears.

“He’s just getting used to you. It’s always been just him before,” Armin had said. “Give him some time. He’ll grow out of it.”

And Armin was right. Eren did grow out of it. But the price they had to pay for that, was far too steep, one she’d rather never paid. Both she and Eren escaped the wreckage of the car with only minor cuts and bumps, but Aunt Carla was not so fortunate, her body pinned between the smashed metal frame. She didn’t understand the intricacies then, but it was the sort of pining that kept her trapped, but also kept her alive. They couldn’t get her out, nobody could, not without killing her. Even when Uncle Grisha later arrived at the scene, all he could do was sink to his knees and stay by her side, helpless, powerless for all his medical knowledge.

So yes, Eren grew out of it, whether through Aunt Carla’s passing or her final words to take care of each other. It didn’t matter. She knew that kind of loss, it changes people. It wasn’t like they explicitly talked about it, but he simply stopped. Never brought it up again, never showed his upset again, even entrusting tasks that he knew she would do better to her. There was no need for words, and she accepted this new normal just as easily, doing her best to fill the void. Not replace, no, but make it less felt, just as they made hers less felt. That must be the reason she’s here, to serve this purpose.

“Here, Mikasa. This is for you!”

Uncle Grisha gives her a gift the next year, in preparation for the trip to Japan they would all undertake for her sake. It was a travel luggage, all black with red stripes along the zipper.

“Eren picked it. I would have gone for something brighter but—”

“Mikasa likes black, Dad. Right Mikasa?”

Emotion welled up in her throat, in her eyes, but she did not let them fall, not until she stood below the sakura tree, both of them flanking her sides as she caught falling petals in her open palms. How could she describe that feeling? Uncle Grisha’s large hand on her shoulder before he moved away to give her some space, Eren’s comforting presence as he steadfastly remained by her side? She couldn’t describe it. She just remembers what she told herself then, looking upon a sight she had wanted to look upon with the mother she no longer had. Both mothers she no longer have. But with a father she still does. And a...brother, she still does. They were family. And that would be true to her dying breath.

That still is true, but two things can be true at the same time. And just as she knows she won’t replace Aunt Carla, they do not replace her birth parents either. She thinks of them less and less as time passes, accepts that her mother’s family are not hers, accepts that her father’s is a mystery, but she never forgets. Maybe one day she might be inclined to find out more about them.

“Hey kid, you said your name is Mikasa Ackerman, right?”

She didn’t expect them to find her. Levi Ackerman was not an especially tall or big person, but she was thirteen and shorter, and he looked intimidating staring down at her. She felt it when she saw him in person for the first time just days ago, backstage before his match with exclusive passes Eren worked hard to get, and all she could think about was that joke Eren once said about their shared surnames as they watched him through the television screen. But as Levi showed her a picture, asked her if she knows anyone in it, and she very clearly recognizes that the man standing in the back left of the family portrait was unmistakably her father, it didn’t seem so much a joke anymore.

“I’m sorry about your dad, kid.” Levi had crouched down to match her height. “I didn’t know him personally, but he was still one of ours.”

“Ours?” There’s that weight on her chest again, simultaneously suffocating and uplifting.

“The Ackerman clan. One big family.”

She glanced over at Eren then, seeing the stars in his eyes grow dim as it dawns on him what was going on. As it dawns on her what was going on. _H_ _ey, maybe you’re related and that’s why you’re so strong._ He had framed it as a joke, thought she didn’t catch the undercurrent of bitterness, the unsaid warning of _you’d better not be related_ , and it had always rubbed her wrong. All he saw of that potential connection was the strength, the strength he resented. But that wasn’t what she saw, what it would mean for her. She knew little of her father as it is, so if they were related, if she had family out there who simply didn’t know about her and wasn’t outright abandoning her like that woman whose sting of rejection she still feels, then she wants to know.

“That means you too, Mikasa.”

They found her. They wanted her. Levi held out his hand and offered her everything that came with being part of the clan, everything that Eren had raved and craved for while raptly watching the man before her through the television screen. And sure enough, standing there, he burned with undisguised jealousy. She could have said no. Maybe she would have, if she felt like it would do anything. But she knew him better now to know that Eren wasn’t resenting that she bested him, or that she was good at something. He’s resenting that she has something, something he wants. Well, it was also something she wants. She wants it too.

“ _What did you say?”_

_His wide eyes as he stares at her from across the table speaks plainly of his shock, his disbelief, but even as he’s asking her to repeat his words, his hand on the table has already curled into a fist. Already decided what it wants to feel, how it should react. Because he heard her, loud and clear. She repeats her words anyway, taking in a deep breath for steadiness and looking him right in the eyes. She owes him that. She owes herself that._

“ _It was me. The person that Annie cheated on you with, it was me.”_

_He may have wanted to believe that he heard her wrongly, and maybe that’s why she repeats it not once, but twice, and she sees the moment her words slap him in his face; the sharp inhale of air rushing in through his nose as the tension from his fist travels up to his neck and pops his veins. Still he resists, his brows furrowing with the turmoil it causes him as he tries to make sense of her twice repeated statement, knowing that it makes sense, but unable to believe the sense it makes. That’s what he holds on to when he finally reacts._

_He laughs humorlessly, empty and stilted as he stands up from his chair,_ _but his movements jerk with heaviness. “That’s a terrible joke, Mikasa. It’s not funny at all. But there, I laughed at it so stop messing arou—”_

“ _It’s not a joke,”_ _she cuts him off, intertwining her fingers underneath the table as she keeps her gaze locked with his, seeing his expression grow hard from her interruption. "You know it’s not a joke, Eren.”_

_It would be easier if he grew angry, but he doesn’t. He only grows more horrified as his jaw slackens with words that finds no voice. And it just weighs on her further that he hasn’t decided what to feel towards her, if he wants to believe her at all, but that dilemma is only in his head. The hand still gripping on to the backrest of his chair is strained and all white, a physical, visceral indication of his body’s state. Immediately she wants to reach over, tell him to let go because it must hurt. But she stays where she is, unmoving, because they’re not done yet._

“ _I never told her about the hickey. She knew, and was helping me hide it because the one who gave it to me was her. She never told me about the cheating. I knew, and I didn’t say anything because the person she cheated with was me.”_

 _It must be obvious by now, puzzle pieces_ _of the mysterious hickey_ _falling into place, even if he doesn’t want to believe it._ _But sometimes things simply needs to be said. Clearly, so that there can be no misunderstanding._ _She will leave no room for that._ _What is also clear is her view of his white knuckled grip on the chair, so it doesn’t surprise her when he_ _abruptly flings_ _it behind him and it hits the floor with a loud thud, skittering across the ground until its momentum is stopped by the wall. She expected some measure of aggression. But this is still an apartment unit, and there are neighbours to think about who will make their own assumptions about the noise._

“ _Eren please.”_

 _He ignores her completely, his mind still struggling to catch up to what his body already knows and decided. When he finally speaks, it comes out soft and shaky, but his question is unmistakable._ “ _What..? Why...?”_

 _Why did you take her from me, probably. She lifts her gaze back to his face, but he doesn’t meet it, his face hidden with his forward slump over the table. There are no answers for that, because she didn’t do that,_ _technically, but she doesn’t fault him for thinking that she did, for how it must appear to him, because technically, at the same time, that’s exactly what happened._

“ _It wasn’t what you think it was. None of it. I know this sounds like an excuse but it’s the truth._ _We didn’t do it because we liked each other, it was the total opposite._ _Annie only wanted to use me and I let her do it because I didn’t want her to break up with you, because I really wanted things to work out. I used her too. We had no regard for each other at all. And she realized eventually, that whatever she got from me wasn’t worth cheating on you. She wanted to stop—”_

 _Doughnuts, warm milk,_ _paper sliding back_ _and forth on a tabletop, blue eyes following her every move, blooming red on pale white skin._

“— _but I didn’t. I was the one who didn’t let her go and wanted to continue.”_

_Eren slams his hands on the table. “Why?!”_

_The suddenness of his action and raised voice takes her aback, and she has to quell her instinctive urge to get up and comfort him._ _It wouldn’t do anything but make him angrier because he hates that, her coddling, and because the very source of his anger is her. She shifts uselessly in her seat instead, taking in a deep breath as she considers his question. Why? That indeed is a good question. Why did she do it?_

“ _Why...Mikasa?” Eren_ _repeats but_ _this time there is no longer any anger in his voice._ _His shoulders shake as his fingers press against the table, and then his voice cracks._ _“Why is it always you?”_

*

“Mikasa.”

Mikasa startles at her name, blinking several times as she comes to awareness of her surroundings. Turning her head to the right, she glances upwards as the big, bold signage of Reiner’s Diner enters her view. Ah. She hadn’t meant to come this way, or at the very least, she had wanted to be walking on the opposite side of the street instead. It’s alarming how deep in thought she must have been to completely lose her concentration like that. But since she has been spotted anyway she stops her stride, looking over to the tall man standing a little to the side of the restaurant’s entrance, welcoming patrons into the premise.

He lifts a hand slightly at her notice.

She smiles at him and nods courteously. “Bertholdt.”

Bertholdt smiles as well, his gaze sweeping around behind her as she approaches. “How rare. You’re alone today?”

He’s likely referring to the lack of Sasha. Too many times has her friend dragged her here on the pretense of food when in actuality it was to see Nikolo. She only ever agrees to accompany her when she’s very sure the timing makes it impossible for a certain someone else to be here. Which has worked thus far, miraculously. But today, right now, is one of those not impossible timings. She does not worry however, as she steps close to the premise. Bertholdt would not have called out to her if Annie is indeed inside. It is a benefit to them both to have him act as an in between and she appreciates it, reluctant duty as it may be.

“Yes,” she answers. “I was with Sasha during lunch, but we split up after. I’m surprised she didn’t come here. We went to Nikolo’s recommendation.”

“Oh?” Bertholdt chuckles at her answer, casting a quick glance into the diner. “That explains the particularly long phone call he received not too long ago.”

She can’t remember if Sasha said anything of her after lunch plans, but while she evidently had to be somewhere else, that didn’t stop her from reporting the food experience either. It must be nice to have someone who shares her passion so intimately, which is the only reason Mikasa still indulges it, despite how expensive it gets sometimes. She only wishes that Sasha would go indulge it _with_ Nikolo instead of dragging her. But the whole courtship or whatever it is Sasha has with Nikolo was strange from the start. Everyone around them can see that they like each other, their connection pretty much instant the moment Sasha tasted that cake off of Mikasa’s face that had been baked specifically to be smashed into Mikasa’s face during her previous birthday party, yet for reasons that only they know, they’ve been dancing around each other for months in this pre-relationship state. It’s mildly annoying, as a spectator, but she’s also aware she’s in no position to judge either.

After all, she probably has her own spectator, like the man standing before her. Not that he has ever made any of his thoughts known to her. Not that she even knows what to say in response to them. He’s not her only spectator either, although when it comes to that other one, she can’t say she knows what that one is thinking. Bertholdt wants what Annie wants, that she knows. But Armin...

“ _I spoke to Annie.”_

_He says this casually, without any indication that the conversation would take this turn, right there in the middle of the street as they are walking pass the cafe the three of them occasionally had lunches together in almost as though he steered them this way precisely for this reason, and Mikasa sighs as she turns to him._

“ _I see.” There is no need to ask what he knows. He’s not saying it as a point of interest. He’s saying it as a confirmation. She gets right to the point. “Disappointed?”_

_Armin frowns at her tone and there’s something very disapproving in the slant of his eyebrows. “Yes, I’m disappointed. But I’m also happy, and those two things don’t go well together.”_

_Mikasa instantly regrets her bite, but what’s done is done, so she focuses on his words instead, although she checks her tone this time. “Happy?”_

_He stops then, moving instead to take a seat at one of the empty outdoor tables of the cafe. She follows suite, just waiting as he regards her with something akin to gentleness. He leans forward once she’s seated, smiling. “Mikasa, you deserve happiness. I absolutely believe this.”_

_That’s a weird tangent, not that she lacks appreciation for his comment. But there is an intensity in Armin’s eyes as he speaks, a plea for her to truly hear him, that she says nothing in return, only nodding her head in acknowledgment._

_He continues. “I know how much you’ve given up for Eren, ever since we were kids. Everything he liked that you like too, you gave up on, all so he would never feel threatened by you, as though you were personally responsible for his self-worth and happiness. And I know how hard it was for you to give up on some of those things. So yes, I am happy, because this time, you didn’t give up. Even if you had to wrench it from his hands, you held on to what you wanted.”_

_She gets his meaning, understands that it’s well-intentioned, but frowns all the same at his word choice. It makes her sound like forceful thief. It’s a deliberate word choice, she’s sure, because he is simultaneously disappointed. But how does she steal someone who never belonged to anyone else in the first place? Someone who chased after her first?_

“ _I know. I know that Annie was the one started it, and I know that I_ don’t _know what actually happened. But what I do know is that for it to have gone on for as long as it did, even if Annie came to you first, you didn’t turn her away either. Maybe...you even welcomed her.”_

_Armin reads her thoughts right off her face, adds a little of his own, or maybe Annie told him when they spoke. It doesn’t matter anyhow, because he’s right. She could not give Annie what she wanted, yet she did not deny her either. What followed was a compromise that should never have happened. Misjudgment. Or intention. Whichever it was, it was easier to pretend she wasn’t the one who threw Annie the rope to hold on to. It was easier to pretend she didn’t see that Annie wasn’t content to just hold, that she didn’t see her climb. It was easier to pretend she wasn’t tying knots for her, each one closer than the one before. She convinced herself that it would be all right. That they were not really connected. That she could cut the rope at any time._

_She had to. She had to, or admit that it was all a farce._

_So which was it? Misjudgment as she tugged the rope? Intention as she reeled Annie in? She can’t remember anymore, if she ever knew, in the midst of the flurrying sensations, emotions, cognitions, that day when she realized that all that was left of the rope was the space between their hands on the counter top. It was a space that disappears when Annie lightly placed her hand on top of hers. It was a space she banished when she turned hers to intertwine their fingers and returned the squeeze. And she can’t tell, even now, if the surge of goosebumps on her skin was oh no, or finally. Maybe both._

_Mikasa looks down at her hand, the one that held, and she recalls that morning. That night. And now her heartrate’s spiking, or is it the memory? Curling her fingers into her palm, she brings her hand up onto the table, finding Armin intently watching her movements. She lets him see it. “Yes...I held on. I’m still holding on.”_

_Then he sighs. Smiles. A contented smile. A proud smile. “I’m glad.”_

_It’s a strange thing to hear from Armin, because holding on to what she wants is synonymous with hurting Eren in this case. How could he be glad about that?_

“ _That I hurt Eren?”_

“ _No,” he replies, shaking his head. “That you found someone you like again.”_

_It sparks flashes of lips against palm, whispered words in the silence of the night._

“ _After Eren, you were never interested in anyone else. I thought that his rejection made you afraid to love again, or that you were avoiding relationships maybe in hopes that he’d change his mind. When I realized what was going on with Annie I even thought that maybe...” Armin trails off there, having the decency to look regretful as he glances away from her, and she finishes his sentence for him._

“ _I was trying to spite Eren because he rejected me by stealing his girlfriend?”_

_Armin just drops his head lower. “Sorry.”_

_She’s not even mad he thought that._ _It’s_ _simply_ _in his nature to entertain every possibility and i_ _t’s not the most preposterous conclusion to come to either. Eren_ _was her first_ _and only_ _, so of course,_ _it_ _cut deep_ _._ _Perhaps it was simply her misconception of their relationship, because_ _Eren was already everything to her, and taking that next step to become lovers just seemed imminent,_ _a given. That Eren did not reciprocate didn’t even make sense to her younger self, and_ _her only rationale was to blame herself,_ _b_ _ecause she made him resent her._ _She could not yet separate that his rejection of her romantic feelings were not a rejection of her._

_She indeed held on to the hope that he might reconsider, ignored the attentions from other people, but when that didn’t change anything either, she clung on to the one role Eren did allow her. Family. She played the sister card hard. Anything to remain close to him. Anything to keep him close to her. But she knows better now, through time and reflection, that even if she had thought him her everything, he never wanted to be that everything to her. And that’s okay. He cannot define himself by what she expects of him, and neither should she. But as for what Armin is saying..._

“ _Armin,” she chastises, snickering helplessly, “Just what on earth do you think of me in that head of yours?”_

“ _I’m sorry! You’re not always predictable, case in point.” He chuckles along, but keeps his tone apologetic. “I also think you’re just human, and not infallible. Even you can make mistakes. You can get hurt and retaliate, and that’s understandable.”_

“ _I can’t argue that,” she replies lightly, although she’s not sure she likes what he’s implying. She sighs as she leans back on her chair. “I wasn’t trying to spite him. He was right. We are not compatible in that way.”_

_Armin leans back as well, and he ventures warily. “But Annie is?”_

_Mikasa bites her tongue as she looks at his expression, wondering what it is he expects her to say. If it would befuddle him if she says anything other than what he expects. But no, she doesn’t want to do that. There might be a time where it would be amusing to throw a wrench at his expectations, but not today. Not about this. And not while his blue eyes and blond hair reminds her of Annie’s, not while she’s thinking of how exasperated Annie would be at her dishonesty, even in a jest. Mikasa smiles to herself at the mental image._

“ _She is. I like her.”_

_It’s almost funny when Armin’s eyes widens as though he didn’t just say the same moments before, as though he expected to hear anything else, but with a quick smile he composes once more. “You said that with conviction. I just wished that you had the conviction to say it openly, to Eren’s face. He would have been upset and threw a tantrum about it, but at least he would know what exactly he’s upset about, you would know what exactly you’re hurting him for, and I could genuinely be happy for you instead of feeling like I have to take his side and be disappointed in you.”_

“ _You should take his side. I can’t.”_

“ _Mikasa,” he stresses her name so gravely suddenly that it takes her by surprise. “You know I would have supported you, right?”_

_That takes her by surprise too. She’s not sure she would have supported herself, had she been in Armin’s position. Besides, Armin is Eren’s best friend, they’ve been best friends since before she entered the picture. He is their common link. They both care for him greatly. And then it dawns on her, right then, his train of thought. Not that it invalidates everything else he said, but—_

“ _Thank you, Armin,” she says. And this time she throws the wrench, “I would have supported you too.”_

_It hits, and he hides it poorly, body jolting slightly as his jaw slacks open. “What are you talking about?”_

_His voice cracks and Mikasa just smiles knowingly as colour rises to his cheeks. Reaching over to grasp his wrist, she gives it a gentle squeeze. “When you find your conviction, I’ll be there to support you, Armin.”_

That conversation had been the one time they spoke of what happened between her, Annie, and Eren. She’s not entirely certain herself what he ultimately thought of it. On one hand, he chastised her, yet on the other, he also seemed to support her, in retrospect anyway. It tells her nothing of what he thinks she should do now. And besides, all of that happened before she came clean to Eren. Whatever Armin thought of it, he may not feel the same now simply due to how Eren reacted to her admission.

Mikasa sighs, and with the dispelling of her reminiscence comes the return of her awareness, enlightening her all at once to the silent presence a little to her right. Bertholdt. How long did she stand there, lost in her thoughts? Not more than a few seconds, surely. The mind is amazing like that, flashing through entire lifetimes in a fraction of a second. Even so, that’s still a few seconds that he had just quietly watched her as she got swept up in her memories, a small smile on his lips. It’s disconcerting, especially when he smiles wider upon noticing that she’s come back to herself.

She doesn’t say anything, not yet, sliding her eyes to the side to peer into the diner behind Bertholdt instead. There are a lot less customers than she expects for a Sunday afternoon, even if it is past the typical lunch hours. That may explain why Bertholdt is standing outside on customer attraction duty, however.

“Slow day?”

He nods. “Yeah, probably because of the rain.”

That he instantly goes along with her, not showing the slightest interest in asking her about what was on her mind, unsettles her even more. Which only confuses her in light of her inexplicable urge to explain herself. She sighs again, suddenly understanding. “Are you like this with Annie too?”

His brows rise with the mention of Annie. But he seems to get what she means, and with a helpless smile he shifts back slightly, lifting a hand to his chin. “I’m told I’m like this with everybody.”

“And do you keep secrets as well as you invite them?”

“Apparently I don’t look like someone who has secrets to keep.”

That doesn’t help her sense of unease around him, but it is not her place to comment on who Annie trusts. No doubt Armin might have inspired the same unease in Annie, yet Mikasa unquestioningly trusts her childhood friend. So they’re the same, at the end of the day. At least between the two Bertholdt actually acts as a confidant. It is probably a good thing too for Annie to have a soundboard instead of ruminating by herself, seeing that some of the conclusions that Annie had reached on her own were nothing short of bewildering.

She has no desire to pursue this line of conversation however, and since it wasn’t her intention to stop and chat anyway, Mikasa makes ready to leave. But clearly, she shouldn’t have broached the topic of Annie if she meant for it to be off-limits, so she can’t exactly blame Bertholdt for taking her cue, his expression now simply itching with words unsaid. His eyes darting to a point behind her further confirms that notion even more, because she knows just as well as he does what it is in the distance and in that direction. But she is not obligated to answer an unvoiced question. She is not obligated to answer even a voiced one.

“By the way, you’re not usually in this part of town.”

Well, he is not subtle. She shrugs and humors him. “I have to pick Armin up from the airport later. If I went home, I’ll have to pass by here again on the way, so I’m just sticking around to pass some time.”

“I see,” he replies, and she can see it from the way his gaze once again flits to that point behind her, that he’s deliberating whether or not to ask a more direct question. She grants him that deliberation, a little curious herself if he actually would, because he must know that she knows exactly what he’s trying to get at. But while he isn’t subtle, he isn’t blunt either, and when he meets her eyes again, the deliberation is done. “Well, if you need to kill some time, would you like to come in for some drinks? Dessert? On me, of course.”

It’s almost a shame that he doesn’t ask. Does he already know her answer? Or does he not want to know her answer? Or was it something Annie herself wanted, for him not to interfere? In any case, there’s no point in wondering. So she answers the only question he did ask by shaking her head. “Thank you, but I just had lunch with Sasha, so I’ll pass.”

Because lunch with Sasha means a full course meal including three desserts. Most of which Sasha ate, but the point still stands that Mikasa has more than she needs in her stomach right now. Bertholdt laughs in sympathetic understanding, having been witness to Sasha’s eating habits multiple times himself. It probably would have been wiser to let Sasha clear the table, and there’s no doubt there that Sasha could, but Mikasa was the one paying after all. She wanted to get her money’s worth by at least tasting everything Sasha ordered. It also served as a nice distraction, with her ‘increased appetite’ prompting Sasha to eat instead of talk.

“I trust that it was at least delicious?” Bertholdt asks once his laughter tapers off. Yes it was, but delicious doesn’t change the fact that she’s stuffed, and partially the reason she wanted to take a stroll. One that she’s quite eager to continue right about now. He notices, and quickly reaches into the pocket of his trousers to pull out his wallet, producing from within a handful of little pieces of paper. “Have these instead then, before you go.”

She’s reaching out to meet his outstretched hand before she thinks better of it and once the papers are in her grasp, there is nothing to do but to look upon them. The words ‘Carly’s Donuts’ instantly jumps out at her. “What are these?”

“Discount vouchers, for Carly’s Donuts. A new branch just opened recently, about three blocks down that way,” he explains hastily, pointing to that particular direction behind her, “and as part of their opening promotion and a customer loyalty scheme, I guess, they gave out a lot of these. Annie got a bunch of them, but as much as she likes Carly’s, she couldn’t possibly use all of the vouchers up within the promotional period so she gave Reiner and I some too. We’ve had more doughnuts than we can count in these few days, but as I thought, we can’t use it up either. So, uh, maybe you might want some doughnuts too?”

Mikasa stares at the vouchers in her hand, and then up at his slightly wavering smile. She could have believed that this is what he says, an attempt to make the most out of these vouchers that he himself could not, or an attempt to replace his declined dessert offer with something else, if not for his wavering smile. He is not subtle, after all. Is this a hint then? A set-up? A non-interference interference? That would be rather clever, actually. But she doesn’t have to go along either.

“I’m not hungry now though.”

“Oh yes of course, I didn’t mean you have to get them now,” he replies, waving his hands before him to deny any insinuation. “Maybe another day, or maybe to take home, for later?”

She hums. It sounds sincere, and checking the promotional period she finds that they are indeed good for a few more days, plus they're valid at all branches, not just the newly opened one. So she accepts the vouchers, pocketing them into her coat. “All right. Thanks for these then.”

He smiles, this one markedly steadier than before. “You’re welcome.”

And then she makes to go, finally, for the third time, when he adds—

“If not for yourself, perhaps Armin might enjoy something sweet after his flight?”

Clever. Very clever. She rolls her eyes at him to let him know just what she thinks of it, but his perpetually disarming smile is unfazed.

*

She hadn’t known what to make of Annie, initially. Fleeting mentions of an instructor when Eren started his fight classes wasn’t much to go on, so she reads like a nondescript character in a mystery novel; mentioned early on almost offhandedly, seemingly destined to be unremarkable and inconsequential, but who then turns out to be the major player all along. But the biggest plot twist wasn’t that Annie had such a big role. The twist was what Annie’s role was, and to who. Perhaps if they had met on different terms, or if she had paid closer attention, she might have clued in sooner. But nothing is ever that easy though.

Eren treats Annie like a secret, guarding her jealously against anyone who might want to know more, or probably that’s just how it came off to her. Even the name ‘Annie’ was something she gleaned when Eren dropped it answering someone else’s question during Christmas last year, upon unveiling his new moves and tighter form. Although to be fair to him, she hadn’t asked, knowing very well how he’d react to her poking into that part of his life. Eren won the brawl, as usual, but that time he wins it decisively where Jean put up a good fight the year before. Frankly, it was really impressive, but between his secret keeping and his boast that with these new techniques he’d beat even her someday, naturally, she wasn’t too endeared to the entity named Annie.

Clearly, Annie was the villain, an opinion that only solidified when Armin shared his thoughts with her.

“They’re probably dating.”

“Dating?” she squeaked.

“Or if not, that’s what he intends anyway. Think about it, Eren’s never been this hush hush about anything before. What other reason could there be?”

Armin’s usually not wrong about Eren, and deep down, she probably knew it to be true too. But the confirmation of her gut feeling was still a bitter pill to swallow, and one look at Armin’s face showed that he shares her sentiments. It brought forth a surge of something dark, something ugly, something she thought she was over. But there it was, heavy and uncomfortable, and she hated it. But she could not hate him for that, because that wasn’t fair. She had her chance, she told him how she felt, and similarly, so did he. That it was not the answer she was expecting didn’t make it wrong. He didn’t feel the same, that was that, and she doesn’t hate him for it.

So she directed it instead to the one person she could. The elusive fight instructor. Maybe that would explain her unprecedented rudeness at their first meeting, saying nothing but hello and goodbye whilst ignoring her the rest of the time and only occasionally glaring at her through the rear-view mirror. Or maybe it was how shameless this person was about being the secret lover, brazenly accepting the car ride despite never being formally introduced prior and not even trying to make nice. Or maybe it was Eren’s demand for her not to mention that she trains under Levi or to mention anything at all related to fighting, all while asking her for a favour, that it set the wrong tone from the start.

Whichever it was didn’t really matter because obviously, Annie wasn’t at fault either, but it was simply easier to hate the stranger. It didn’t help that she realized instantly, looking into Annie’s clear blue eyes, watching the profile of her apathetic countenance from the rear-view mirror, what drew Eren to her. No, not the part where she’s undeniably pleasing aesthetically, but the part where her entire existence seemed to be a challenge. A perpetual silent screaming of ‘Impress me!’ One that evidently, Eren fell for. And frustratingly, Armin who she thought shared her discontent about Annie, took an immediate liking to her too. There was something magnetic about Annie, certainly, but she was not as enamored, and she was not about to play her game.

But where did that leave her? A brother who was caught in his new relationship, a best friend who was caught in his new friendship, and a stranger who invaded into a sacred family tradition of Sunday dinners. Yes, she extended the invitation first, but it was reactionary, sarcastic, and Annie wasn’t supposed to accept it. She knew that Annie knew that she wasn’t supposed to accept it. So fine, Annie may be vexing, but ultimately that was her mistake, because she gave Annie the opportunity. It was a bitter pill of her own making. She tried her best to be accommodating, she had patience in spades, but even she has her limits. Limits that Annie seemed quite intent on pushing.

It’s the increased interactions and proximity, surely, even if the interactions were simply being in each other’s presence. The secret was never going to keep forever, but for Eren’s sake she tried anyway, left it up to him whether to tell or not. But—

“You know she’s suspicious, right?”

Annie’s not even inconspicuous about it, blatantly asking one time, and then blatantly attempting to bump into her another time.

“Did she ask you directly?”

“Well, no—”

“Then just don’t say anything. She’s just curious about you now cause you’re new to her. Don’t talk about it and she’ll lose interest eventually, all right?”

Eren could be so frustrating at times. Maybe he’s the one actually pushing her buttons, and Annie’s just the scapegoat. Because sure enough, she was right that the secret couldn’t keep, that those instigated actions were exactly what she thought they were. Annie wasn’t just suspicious, she knew for a fact, because Armin apparently didn’t get the same memo. Well, at that point it wasn’t her problem anymore. She hadn’t told, she hadn’t even hinted. Annie found out on her own and seeing her there at Kenny’s ironically filled her with relief. Not horror, not failure, just pure relief. It almost made her want to go to Eren to say she told him so.

It felt like something changed then, with the truth come to light. Something shifting in their dynamic, becoming more amiable, less charged. Or it should have, normally, but instead it shifted into something she didn’t quite expect. There it was, the plot twist.

“ _I keep thinking of yo_ _u.”_

Huh.

“ _I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you...sexually,_ _since then. I can’t come, not unless I think of you.”_

Huh...

“ _Fuck me.”_

Huh!

She remembers lying down on her bed that night, eyes wide with sleeplessness, staring up at the ceiling in her darkened room, feeling nothing but numbness in the wake of her fury, wondering how on earth things escalated to this point. Had she approached this the wrong way? Could she have done something differently? If she went back far enough, she can only think of the fight. The fight that she should have been more insistent in declining. Because it was a challenge, and she hadn’t wanted to play right into Annie’s hands. She doesn’t need or want to impress anybody, much less Annie.

But...Annie found her there. Saw through the pretense and the lies of omission, doggedly pursued this one desire, and found her there. By accident, sure, but circumstances doesn’t change the presence of that suffocating, uplifting pressure in her chest. Annie found her. That’s why she gave in. That’s why all this happened.

Annie’s entire existence is a challenge, a challenge to crack that mask of indifference, to inspire something other than boredom, where success is its own reward. With Eren, Annie smiles and laughs. With Armin, Annie gives her full focused attention. And with her, there is that look. That look of pure concentration, determination, and revelry in her blue eyes, the look that only someone completely in their element would have, the look she saw as Annie hoisted her over her back and threw her to the ground. It knocked the very wind out of her, and that’s why, she doesn’t know if her breathlessness was from that, or from her sudden epiphany of why they were so enamored with her.

Success is its own reward.

Annie was a marvel to behold. Her pride and tenacity, the beads of sweat that formed on her forehead, the laboured breaths that rushed from her nose, the grunts of exertion that slipped past her lips. There on the mat, stripped of all else, there was just the bare essence of Annie and the bare essence of herself. It needed to happen. Despite what it would lead to, she can say now that it needed to happen. All of the things that she would never be able to say to Annie with her words, all of her feelings, her body could express them just fine. With a knee to Annie’s stomach as a reply to the bone creaking kick. With a counter arm twist as a reply to the near choke hold. With a tackle to the ground as a reply to the parries and the dodges.

It was a drawn out, never ending conversation with no words.

Ah. That’s right. That’s why she let it escalate. It’s that she expected, now that they’ve exchanged all those words with their bodies and broken the tension and hostility, that there should have been a new normal for them. It’s that she thought, that that was what all the staring, the awkwardness, the eagerness and the reticence was. It’s that she believed, even after finding out what it really was, that she shouldn’t rock the boat of this new normal, that she could still steer it back to calmer waters. And maybe, just maybe, those eyes, shaky and vulnerable after having confessed such an intimate truth, reminded her too much of her own the day she tried to kiss him. Reminded her too much of the sting of Eren’s outright rejection. Maybe it wasn’t right for Annie to feel that way, but was it wrong that she felt flattered? Was it wrong that she wanted to spare Annie that sting?

It wasn’t like she encouraged it. She gave it time. That’s what Armin told her to do when Eren began to resent her. That’s what Eren told her to do when Annie got suspicious. Give it time. But time wasn’t what made Eren grow out of his resentment. Time wasn’t what made Annie stop suspecting. And time didn’t make this go away either.

There was a moment as she toed the speed limit while flying down the freeway, that she wondered if she enabled all of this. Because she invited Annie into her space. Because she agreed to fight her. Because she didn’t nip that misguided attraction in the bud. Was it all her fault? Was it her fault that she had to now either fuck Annie or watch her and Eren break up?

Morbidly, she wondered if she could pull off crashing the car -passenger side of course- and come out unscathed just like that one other car accident she’s been in, if it would solve her problems. That’s the point that she lifted her foot off the pedal and took a breather. No. She couldn’t control accidents, and she couldn’t possibly risk inflicting Eren with even more trauma of losing loved ones in another car accident.

But where did that leave her? Her fury waned quickly, and in its place there was just nothing. Just the quiet of her room and the whiteness her ceiling boards.

“You really like her, don’t you?”

Eren was cooking, of his own volition, when Aunt Carla couldn’t even get him to help her beat an egg. It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook, he simply didn’t care for the effort. But there he was, having prepped all the ingredients, manning the stove. He wanted her there for help, for guidance and supervision, but he’s doing everything on his own.

“Well, yeah.” He actually flusters, looking away from her, his voice growing soft. “It just seems like we’re finally over that rough spot, so I want to keep the momentum going, you know?”

“She’s having sex with you again?”

“Mikasa, I was stressed out when I talked to you about that back then but boundaries, okay?”

Oh, there are far worse boundaries than that that she would cross, that she needed to cross, all so he could keep that momentum going. She hadn’t actually decided what she wanted to do, hadn’t moved past that emptiness of staring at her ceiling, but that conversation set the course. And when Annie later didn’t even try to hide how stunned and hopeful she was to see her there, when Eren started making future anniversary plans for the relationship outright replacing their usual family holiday with it, it sealed her decision.

Annie, for all that she resented the other girl for putting her in that position, at least appeared as torn as she was, standing there at the juncture of the living and the hallway to the door, unable to answer his question.

“Didn’t you ask me for a ride home, Annie?”

It was supposed to be simple. She had boundaries, rules to help facilitate that simplicity. To keep control. Just fuck her and leave, and all would be fixed. But nothing is ever that simple. When will she ever learn?

She had touched Annie before, in a lot of places, down on the mat when they both tried to grapple the other into submission, but this was different. Different place, different tension, different atmosphere. Her bravado stripped away like Annie’s clothes on the floor, and suddenly she didn’t know how to breathe. A woman’s nude body is just anatomy, but a nude woman on a bed waiting to be touched, waiting for her touch, was daunting, was uncharted territory. She didn’t know if she wanted to touch her, or didn’t want to touch her, or if she even knew how to.

It wasn’t her first, but it may as well have been because waking up in an unfamiliar room with a gaping hole in her memory, her clothes half disheveled and half not on her, with a gay (to her knowledge at the time) male coursemate in a similar state of dress beside her, and only that dread inducing pain between her legs to inform her of what happened, was not much of a sexual experience. Touching a woman as a woman was supposed to be easier, just like masturbating, except she didn’t do much of that either. She never knew what she should think of, or who. Never had much urge. But maybe this was a good thing, finally, because she was meant to make it suck. Inexperience should suck, right?

Not as much as she thought. Experience counts, surely, but she didn’t need experience to know that Annie’s hiss when she powered out of her holds was that of pain, just as she didn’t need experience to know that Annie’s gasp at the first touch of her hands was not. It was not. Something else took over then, something primal, instinctive, her body moving to a language only it understands, touching anywhere, everywhere, and it was all she could do to remind herself to breathe as every shudder, every groan and every cry, shot right into her and hammered at her heart. She could not help but notice how soft Annie was. Hard muscles beneath her skin, but so soft, and the juxtaposition was mesmerizing, difficult to put into words, enrapturing. She wanted to know everything, how smooth Annie was, how warm, how wet.

It felt like she was in a trance, her head so filled with a rush like nothing else she’s ever known, and in that trance, nothing else mattered but that rush. That rush she gets when she spreads Annie’s legs open and kneels between Annie’s trembling thighs, when Annie rolls her head back and closes her eyes, when Annie bites her lip and curls her fingers into the sheets. That rush she gets when Annie consents the fingers at her heat, when Annie arches her back and jerks her hips, when Annie clenches down and pushes back against her.

It was the rush of victory. If Annie is a challenge, and breaking the mask is the goal, where reaction is the reward, then she must be the victor. Because Annie right then, pressing her face into the pillow as she moaned and panted openly, looking like she might cry and beg her for sweet release, has even Eren seen that before? Has anyone? Well, she has. She has seen it.

“Hey Mikasa, did Annie get home all right? She isn’t answering my calls.”

She sat in her car for long minutes after, her hammering heartbeat showing no sign of slowing down, when she picked up Eren’s call. She was almost afraid he could hear it.

“Yes, of course. Maybe she went to bed early, because of her stomach. You could check in on her tomorrow.”

Or maybe she’s ignoring her phone in her post-orgasmic bliss. She wouldn’t even leave the bed to see her out.

“Yeah, you’re right. Anyway, thanks for taking her home.”

No. Don’t thank her. Don’t thank her. Mikasa felt her throat tighten up as the hammering shifts up, pounding in her head so hard it hurt. What had she just done?

“Mikasa? You still there?”

It had seemed so distant, Eren’s voice coming in through the receiver, but every beat of it magnified the pounding. Made it hard to breathe. She did it for him. It’s all right. She did it for him. But the rush, her heartbeat that races still, that wasn’t for him. That was for herself. And that was all she could think about.

“ _Hey, answer me. Mikasa.”_

_Mikasa looks up at him, startled, but already disliking the low and threatening tone of Eren’s voice. What was the question again? Ah right, why is it always her? She exhales quietly, not bothering to hide her frown if Eren should raise his head and catch it. Because his tone is not the only thing she’s not liking. Why is it always her? What even is the point of that question? It cares not for her reasons, for any extenuating circumstances, it just cares that it’s her. And there are no answers that would ever satisfy, because Eren has never cared whether or not she’s besting him, just that she was good at things. Or she had things. Things he wanted._

_Granted, this time isn’t like it was with Levi all those years back, because Annie actually was his girlfriend. And she is sorry about that, for her actions. But not for being who she is. “I’m sorry—”_

_Eren slams the table again, backing away from it. “You’re sorry?” he yells, scoffing as he shakes his head disbelievingly. “Really? You’re_ sorry _that you’re the person my girlfriend cheated on me with?! For months?!”_

 _She grits her teeth._ “ _I don’t know what you want me to say, Eren.”_

_He stares at her for a moment, almost shell shocked, then he swivels away from the table and begins to pace. “You don’t know what to say? Why are you even telling me then if you don’t know what to fucking say?! Maybe you want to explain why the fuck it’s you?! I never suspected you! I suspected everyone, even Armin, for God’s sake, but not you! Because it’s you, Mikasa! I thought you—! I thought you...”_

_The anguish in his voice and on his face is difficult to bear, but she gets what he doesn’t finish saying. Once, she thought she too. “I didn’t do this to hurt you.”_

_Maybe this part is true but—_

“ _Then what, you did this to help me? Because you wanted things to work out?”_

 _Maybe, that part isn’t entirely true either._ _Maybe there are partial truths and partial lies everywhere._ _Maybe, it had never been for Eren’s sake. Maybe, it just made things easier to justify._

“ _How the fuck_ _was that supposed work out?! Tell me! How the fuck did you think that sleeping with my girlfriend wouldn’t hurt me?!”_

_Maybe because she was. But she doesn’t tell him that, or say anything at all, because she’s not convinced of that reasoning. Because nothing she says now will matter anyway. He’s angry, he needs to vent, and she does deserve at least part of it. But he doesn’t take her silence any better. He fumes, marching back to the table to tower over her._

“ _I should have known it was you! Of course! You’re always doing this! Another achievement on your belt? Stealing my girlfriend with your exceptional talents?”_

 _The accusation, his callousness,_ _the utter sneer with which he says those words, burns at the back of her eyes. Uncle Grisha had said that with pride. Aunt Carla had said that with pride. Once, even Eren had said that with pride. She pushes her chair back, standing up. “Fine. Yes, I stole your girlfriend with my exceptional talents. I did it to spite you like everything else I do. Is that what you want me to say?”_

_No, it’s not what he wants her to say, it’s what he thinks he wants her to say, and he knows it too. He snarls, eyebrows slanting so dangerously it makes her think that if not for the table between them, he might actually lunge at her. And she probably incentivized him by standing up, by talking back, by retaliating, when she should just sponge his anger. But that’s preposterous. Eren wouldn’t hit her, would he?_

_Another chair goes flying across the room, crashing into the couch and coffee table with a thunderous rattle. No, he really wouldn’t. But he’s taking it out on things instead, and that’s even worse. At least she wouldn’t fight back, but throwing things around, who knows what might happen? He might hurt himself, or at very least, he’d damage things he would come to regret later, once he’s calmed down._

_She checks her tone, making sure it’s gentle, but also firm. “Eren.”_

_But he isn’t listening. “No! Don’t use that tone on me, Mikasa, you’re not my mom! You made Annie cheat on me and you want to reprimand me? How long has it been going on, huh? Was it when you two fought? Was that why you kept that from me? Because unlike me she was so impressed that you beat her!”_

“ _We kept it from you because you kept it from her. You started that lie, Eren.”_

“ _So what, you’re saying it’s my fault? You seduced my girlfriend to get back at me for making you lie about that?”_

“ _No! That isn’t what I’m saying at all!”_

“ _Then what are you saying?!”_

“ _That_ _we did it to protect your feelings! That way it wouldn’t matter if you eventually tell her or not because what you don’t know can’t hurt you.”_

“ _Yeah? Is that how you went from fighting behind my back to fucking behind my back?!”_

_Any retort that she might have had dies in her throat at his words, because there is nothing to say to that. He’s right, everything she had done had been contradictory in intention and action, and she went from doing things that shouldn’t hurt him to things that absolutely would, all while convincing herself that it was what was best for him. There is no justifying that, there is only remorse. Feeling herself deflate, Mikasa gropes for the chair behind her and sits herself back down. She should never have risen in the first place, should never have fought back. She doesn’t have the right to do that, not right now._

“ _I’m sorry.”_

_\--is all she can say, worthless as it is. It does seem to take the edge off of Eren however, and for a while, it almost looks like he wants to sit back down as well, but having tossed away both chairs on his side of the table, he can only remain standing. Remain angry. He places his hands on the table and glares at her._

“ _Was that when it started? All the way back then?”_

_At the very least, his volume has lowered significantly. But suppressed fury isn’t necessarily better than explosive fury._

“ _It wasn’t that far back.”_

“ _Then when?”_

_She thinks of the myriad of responses she could give him, from asking him to get the chairs back, to giving him the other one she has on her side so they can sit down and talk, to actually explaining the complicated timeline of her engagement with Annie and how even though it started two months after their match, it really didn’t mean anything then because it was all physical and it didn’t become something more until much later, but all of that is just stalling. And she doesn’t have any fight left. She vowed to tell him everything anyway, so she drops her gaze and sighs out the answer._

“ _July.”_

“ _July?”_ _he croaks, the sound a cross between a sneer and a laugh. Then he actually laughs. “That’s over half of my relationship with Annie. Half! Why the fuck was she even with me?”_

_She can’t answer on Annie’s behalf, he shouldn’t hear it from her, but he doesn’t want it anyway. His fingers curl into fists, and then it’s explosive again._

“ _Both of you not getting along, was that all just to fool me? Were you both making fun of me, laughing at how stupid I was that I didn’t even notice that my girlfriend was cheating on me with my sister?!”_

“ _That’s not how it wa—wait, Eren!”_

 _He storms into the_ _kitchen mid-reply and_ _her concern and alert spikes. Tossing chairs or any other large objects is already bad, but at least they’re unwieldy and generally blunt. It’s a different story for things found in the kitchen, and the way he is right now reminds her far too much of all the times in their childhood when Eren would grab random objects to use as weapons against Armin’s bullies, only to cut himself on sharp edges or to have the object snatched away and used against him. Obviously, she will not be doing the latter, but whatever the case, his safety matters more to her than his feelings. Forgoing the_ _sponging, she lurches up to follow behind him._

“ _I thought you two hated each other, that it was my fault, but it was all just pretend! You two were merrily fucking behind my back!” he barks as he whirls on her, his stance territorial, aggressive, defending his space, and she halts right there at the threshold of the kitchen. She can see the hard lines on his forehead, the veins on his neck, the stiffness of his entire body, and it screams danger, unpredictability._

“ _Eren, come out of the kitchen.”_

“ _All those times both of you were here, were you holding hands under the table?! Going to the bathroom for quickies?! Or having them when I went to the bathroom?! Sneaking in kisses when I wasn’t looking?!”_

_If only he knew they had never done that last one. In fact, they had never done any of them! Yes, she wronged him, but she would never disrespect him to that extent either. “Don’t be ridiculous.”_

“ _I’m being ridiculous?!”_

_Glass shatters against the side of the cabinet so suddenly it takes her by surprise even though she was looking at him the entire time. Her worst fears come true, and the worst part is not knowing if it was impulsive, reactionary or deliberate. That, and that there are a lot more cups and plates and others all within his reach on the drying rack. She really, really should be sponging._

“ _You’re the one who slept with my girlfriend and lied about it to my face! I asked you if you knew who it was, and you said no when it was you!”_

_He reaches for something else, and that’s that. She steps forward._

“ _Stop that, it’s dangerous.”_

“ _Don’t come near me!”_

_She feels what happens next before she sees it, her reflexes honed from years and years of training kicking in instantly as she jumps back and closes her eyes, but not it’s not nearly fast enough. Hearing a second shattering of glass she bumps into the edge of the table behind her and loses her balance, falling to the floor. Normally she would bounce right back up. Normally she wouldn’t have fallen at all. But the shock of seeing the remnants of a plate on the floor, broken against the wall right where she’d been standing, keeps her grounded. The stinging line of pain just under her right eye confirms what happened and slowly, she brings her hand up to touch the tingling sensation running down her cheek. Her fingers come away red. She stares at them, unblinking, and it’s such a strange sight to see. Stranger still is what it makes her think of. Pomegranate juice._

“ _Mikasa!”_

_She turns to where Eren stands frozen in the kitchen, his eyes wide and mouth slack, all anger gone from his face leaving only horror in its wake. The whiplash from fury to fear paralyzes him right there as his gaze darts between her cheek, the wall, and the plate in quick succession._

“ _Fuck! I—I didn’t—”_

“ _It’s fine, Eren,” she reacts immediately, covering the cut with one hand while lifting the other towards him. “I’m all right. Don’t worry.”_

_That snaps him into action as well and while not quite steadily, he moves with haste, grabbing way more paper towels than she thinks is necessary off the shelf before making his way over. He quietly crouches down next to her, pulling her hand away and pressing the towels to her bleeding cheek. He avoids her eyes, doesn’t say anything, his energy still a violent churning undecided what it wants to be, what it should be, but she feels her throat constrict anyway at the gentle pressure on her cheek. She can’t even do this for him. She can’t even be this for him._

“ _You should leave for now, Mikasa,” he says suddenly, decisively, and she doesn’t argue. She takes over his hand on the towel, keeping pressure on her wound as he stands up and backs away. “Let’s talk later. Just go home.”_

_She nods but he doesn’t see it, already retreating away to his room, never once looking back before he shuts the door and locks it. The silence in his wake is almost deafening as she looks at the tossed chairs and broken glass. She sighs, her cheek beginning to throb as her adrenaline passes, and quickly, she pulls her phone out of her pocket. Thankfully, despite how she wanted this conversation to go, she is too prudent to not acknowledge all the other ways it could go. This particular scenario wasn’t high on the list, but it’s there. And she prepared backup. With a tap of a button she sends the message she had typed out in advance, and from there it takes only a minute before knocks sounded on the door._

“ _Mikasa? Eren?”_

“ _It’s not locked,” she calls out._

_The door opens and Armin strides in, the anxiety apparent in his voice turning into alarm when he takes in the state of the apartment. “What—” and then he spots her on the floor. He gasps, rushing forward towards her. “Mikasa! What happened? Are you all right?”_

_She lifts a hand to him just as she did with Eren. “I’m okay. Don’t worry.”_

_He doesn’t take her word for it, crouching down to inspect her cheek. It stings a little as he moves her hand away to actually look at the wound, but amusingly, he’s the one who winces. “That’s awful,” then he presses the towels back on as he gulps, eyes growing wide. “Did he hit you?”_

_That that is his first thought, she doesn’t know whether to roll her eyes or laugh. Why does he always go for the worst case scenario before all else? Then again, that Armin is here at all is because she too thought of it._ _Not that he’d hit her, no, but that something would go wrong and someone might get hurt._

“ _No,” she replies, gesturing with her head at the broken plate. “He just got a little...smash-y. Actually, I probably provoked him by coming too close.”_

“ _Mikasa,”_ _Armin says gravely, not even looking at the shards on the floor but no doubt having seen them, and the displaced chairs. His hands on her shoulders grips her hard,_ _and it has her blinking rapidly as she stares at him. “Think of yourself a little more. How is it acceptable for him to be throwing things around just because you approached, or at all, unless he didn’t care that he might hurt you? It’s not your fault.”_

 _He says that easily, smoothly, the effect of having said it many times. But, is it not? Physical wounds always seem more severe, always elicits more sympathy, because they can be seen. But this puny cut has to be nothing_ _compared to how he’s feeling._ _It isn’t even intentional, unlike all the things she knew she was doing. Don’t emotional wounds deserve retaliation too? If allowing him to actually hit her can undo his pain, she might probably let him._

“ _Where is he?”_

 _What is she even thinking about though? Eren will never do that._ _She simply wants an easy way out._ _“He locked himself in his room.”_

_Armin looks at the room in question, before inhaling deeply and standing up. “All right, I’ll take it from here,” he says, offering her a hand. “What about you?”_

_After a momentary pause, she takes his offered hand and stands as well. It’s a pause she spends thinking if there is anything she could do, but besides cleaning up the broken glass, there is nothing else. Armin can do that too, and Eren would not appreciate her continued presence anyway. “I should go.”_

“ _Can you get home all right? Should I send you?”_

_She musters a small smile for him. “It’s a flesh wound Armin. I can drive even with it. I’ll leave Eren to you.”_

“ _Right. I’ll handle everything,” he nods. “I’ll give him a good scolding too.”_

_She wouldn’t, but Armin’s always had his own way with Eren. So she just heads for the door while he follows behind her. Her hand is on the knob when Armin speaks again._

“ _Does Eren know everything now?”_

_She wonders if her face and the state of the house aren’t telling enough. “As much as he cares to know, for now.”_

“ _I see,” he replies. “Okay. Take care, Mikasa.”_

_Something in his reply bristles her, but she isn’t interested in arguing it, so she nods and simply walks out the door. She pulls it shut after her, and when she hears it click into place, when it separates her from Armin’s penetrating gaze, she drops her head and lets out a heavy sigh. Turning to lean back against the wall next to the door, she breathes in and sighs again. It’s done. It had to be done, and it’s supposed to be a good thing, but right now, right now she doesn’t know how to feel about it. She can’t quite rejoice knowing that from here on, nothing will be the same between her and Eren._

_The thought of telling Annie passes by, but she lets it go. Not yet. She’s tired, heat pooling in her eyes, and she sinks down to a crouch to rest. Belatedly, she remembers her scarf, the blood running down her cheek, and frantically she pulls at the cloth from her collar. She’s fairly certain she managed to stem the flow, but she checks anyway. Not that the deep red of her scarf helps in identifying. Not that it doesn’t already look like blood. She stills at that, lowering the hand on her face to stare at the red splotch on the paper towels._

_It had to be done. But this is another thing that will never be the same again._

*

Cold air stings her cheeks as she pushes open the door to the shop. Mikasa grimaces, halting in her step to reach up and pull her scarf up over her nose and aforementioned cheeks before continuing on and into the shop. It’s chilly enough outside today, what more with the afternoon shower, that she thought being indoors might provide a little respite. But no such luck. This shop has always been unreasonably cold, with the air conditioning on full blast. She’s not entirely certain why that’s even necessary. Perhaps because the sensory cues in the shop tend to inspire warmth in the body? Or perhaps because people who find their way to this shop might already be feeling a little warm to begin with? Those are plausible reasons. Both of which, she realizes, she can personally attest to. Although, the maneki-neko she sees outside next to the door, an addition that definitely wasn’t there the last time she was here, definitely feels somewhat inappropriate.

The door clicking shut behind her informs the proprietor of her presence and from beyond the counter she sees their head pop up.

“Welcome!” The proprietor greets cheerily, leaving the counter area entirely to move towards her. Getting a closer look now, the tall woman with her oval glasses and wide smile is just as Mikasa remembers. The woman, however, squints at her. “Mikasa?”

There must be something very distinct in the way she looks that she can be recognized even with a scarf covering half her face. Ah, of course, and she smiles wryly at herself. It’s the very thing that is covering half her face. She gets her confirmation when the woman’s eyes glint with certainty.

“Mikasa! It is you!”

Mikasa pulls it down anyway, for manners. “Ms. Hange. It’s good to see you.”

Hange laughs with delight, reaching out to pat her shoulders. The woman never did have much sense for personal space. “What is this? I haven’t seen you in a while and now it’s back to Ms. Hange? Should I call you Ms. Mikasa too?”

“No,” Mikasa smiles, shaking her head. “Please just call me Mikasa, Hange.”

“That’s better,” Hange replies, a large grin on her face as she shuffles over to Mikasa’s side to sling an arm over her shoulder. “There is no need for formality between you and I,” Hange goes on, and Mikasa now finds herself being none too subtly guided further into the shop as Hange walks them between two aisles. “After all, wouldn’t you agree ours is an intimate relationship?”

Hange gestures at the both of them as she says her last sentence, topping it off with a wink. There is nothing objectively wrong with that, but the timing of it, right here right now, as they stand between an aisle of strap-on harnesses and dildos of varying sizes and shapes on her right, and an aisle of vibrators also of varying shapes and sizes on her left, with her neck prickling from the smooth, sensual, instrumental jazz music playing from the speaker above her, and understanding the full implication of Hange’s wink and words, Mikasa feels her face grow warm. Her gratefulness that this place is always so unreasonably cold however, is immediately negated by her lament over her own manners as having pulled her scarf down previously, Hange now has full view of her fluster. And the grin on the older woman’s face only grows wider.

Quite aware that Hange is simply poking fun at her however, Mikasa lets it be. These moments do occasionally make her wonder if it is possible for the other woman to show more restraint, but she always swiftly discards those thoughts. Hange being as she is was probably exactly what Mikasa needed. And being what she needed was what allowed their ‘intimate’ relationship to form. It is comforting to find that despite not having been here for so long, not having seen Hange for so long, that she could still feel at ease.So she ignores the teasing to pose her own question.

“You have a new addition by the door.”

“Oh, you noticed it!” Hange only brightens further at that as she claps Mikasa’s back. “Does it call out to your half Japanese ancestry?”

Mikasa scowls, quite certain one has nothing to do with the other. “It’s pretty big and obvious, Hange. Seemed out of place. I haven’t even seen one like that before. What is it for?”

Obviously it isn’t a fortune cat, that she’s sure of. She’s seen enough of those to tell the difference. But at the same time, she can’t claim to be well versed with all the distinct variations either.

“You haven’t seen a pink one before?”

She shakes her head. It has Hange snickering at her ignorance.

“I had this one custom made! Pink itself is a pretty modern colour apparently, for luck in love and romance, but mine has a unique trait.”

“Oh?”

“The shape of its beckoning paw has been crafted delicately to inspire imagination and perhaps, increase one’s libido.”

“What?” She hadn’t actually paid attention to the shape of the cat’s paw, and thinking about it, there’s really only one shape it can be assuming that makes sense with the motions of its arm, which makes her glad in hindsight she didn’t properly look at it, but regardless, “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Skepticism! That’s good. And, if I suffer a sudden drop of customers, then I’ll know for sure that it doesn’t work. But until then, the only way to know is to test it. Besides,” Hange gives her a sideways look then, grinning, “It snagged you, and I count that as a win.” Snagged? It wasn’t as if she saw the cat and decided to come in. “Now, what can I get you today? Another to add to your collection?”

Arm around her shoulder still, Hange suddenly snaps them to the right to look at the strap-on and dildo display. These moments, when Hange is all enthusiastic about her products and would recommend endlessly while giving incredibly personal tips, never fail to remind her that no matter how friendly they are, Hange is a business owner and would never let an opportunity slip.

Mikasa makes a choked sound and drops her gaze. “No, not at all. I was just passing through the area.”

“Come on Mikasa,” Hange says teasingly, lightly swaying their bodies. “Don’t be shy. You don’t have to use that excuse with me. It’s been, what is it, almost a year since I last saw you? The sex must be getting pretty boring by now. Look at that, new arrival last week and I immediately thought that it’d be perfect for you!”

Mikasa resists looking where Hange points, more so because she knows Hange is well acquainted to her taste than anything else, so she may well like what she sees. So if she doesn’t know what Hange is talking about, imagination can’t take over. Because that really isn’t the point of this visit, so instead, she shakes her head with added determination. “No, really Hange. I’m not here to shop.”

Hange scrunches up her brows at that, regarding her seriously. Whatever she sees has her releasing Mikasa and stepping back half an arms’ distance. “You were really just in the neighbourhood?”

“Yes,” she nods. “That’s right.”

And by adding those qualifiers she knows she’s bungled it. A simple ‘yes’ or ‘really’ should have sufficed. Now she’s trying too hard to agree.

“Hmm,” Hange hums, her eyebrow rising skeptically, as it should. Then she tilts her head, and shoots. “Okay. By the way, how’s it going with that girl?”

It startles her how much it startles her and her mouth opens instantly, ready to deny or deflect, but the words don’t form. Because really, she shouldn’t be surprised that this topic comes up, that Hange figures it out. Whatever she told herself, whatever she’s telling Hange, the reason she’s here is because it’s been a strange day with Annie on her mind. And her association to this place, its purpose, her ‘intimate’ relationship with Hange, all of this exists only because of Annie.

This is where she found herself in that Tuesday night over a year ago, when she bought her first sex toy. This is where she bought all of her sex toys. And, somehow, along the way, Hange became to her not just a sex shop proprietor for whom she gives the occasional business, but also something of a mentor, a relationship advisor, a friend. An intimate relationship, as Hange says. An intimate relationship borne out of her own intimate relationship, in a place seems made to support the more physical nature of her relation with Annie, with a person who is safely far outside her established social circle that she never needs to be too careful with what she says.

This is a safe haven.

“That’s the reason you’re here.”

It’s a statement and Mikasa nods, before bending her head apologetically. “Yes. I’m sorry, I made it sound like I wouldn’t have come if not for that.”

“It’s fine,” Hange’s smile is soft and warm, and her hand moves up to ruffle Mikasa’s hair. “If I wanted friends to visit me casually at work I should have gone for a coffeeshop or a florist instead of this.”

Mikasa takes a long look around now, following Hange’s gesturing of her entire shop. Never mind all the display shelves with various sex toys and sex related items, all the sexually charged visual designs and posters, costumed mannequins from sexy bunnies to barely covering anything dominatrix’s, and the bondage paraphernalia openly hanging on the walls, there’s also a flat screen television on the inner corner of the shop streaming softcore porn on loop. Indeed, this would be an awkward place to visit just to have a chat with the proprietor. Especially when there are other customers present.

Not that that is what kept her away. Rather, it’s probably a subconscious avoidance ever since she and Annie split. She doesn’t want to be reminded, for one, and there is no need for a safe haven when there is no longer a danger. But today is different, apparently. Today, Annie is everywhere.

“Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. How’s it going with that girl? Still complicated?”

Mikasa turns her attention back to Hange as the image of blonde hair and blue eyes flashes in her mind. And then she considers the question. Complicated. Even knowing Hange is far removed from family and friends in the Venn diagram of her social circles, complicated is as much as she is comfortable using to describe her situation. For all intents and purposes, complicated is true, and details only invites value judgments. But that’s not what Hange’s asking.

“Non-existent.”

“Ah,” Hange’s face instantly falls and though she tries to reform it into something like a smile, it comes off more like a grimace. “Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. That...that’s a shame.”

Mikasa quickly shakes her head, realizing that Hange might be thinking that it was a bad break up, and certainly her word choice, non-existent, like there is nothing left between them, may have contributed to that. “It was mutual.”

“Still,” Hange says with a shrug, just one word, and Mikasa gets it, appreciating the intent. Or maybe, Hange’s really at a loss for words, and she gets that too because she’s never known what the right thing to say in such situations are. She faked concern and confusion with Eren, and with anyone else, she simply never involved herself with their break ups. Maybe saying less is more here. Which Hange promptly does away with. “So that’s why you haven’t been coming here for a while?”

“Yes, that’s right.” And it’s actually right this time.

It gets her a smile, kind and comforting, as Hange opens her arms. “I see. Need a hug?”

She smiles as well, but shakes her head. “Thank you, but I’m all right. It’s been some time.”

“Still,” Hange repeats, and she gets it again. So what that it was mutual? So what that it has been a while? Hange keeps her arms open as she comes close, places them on her shoulders. “I know it was a physical relationship, but I got the impression you liked her quite a bit.”

‘It was mutual’ and ‘it’s been some time’ doesn’t change that that is true. That that is still true. She remembers Annie standing up from the armchair, marching over towards her and straddling her lap, arms wrapping around her shoulders to pull her close. She remembers words whispered right into her ear.

“ _You want this. You want me.”_

“Yes. I do.”

Hange blinks, clearly not expecting her immediate reply, and then her eyebrows shoot up, clearly also not missing what she actually says. But the implication sets in, and the bewilderment leaves as a wide grin breaks out on Hange’s face. The fingers on her shoulders squeezes lightly. “Seems to me you have to change that non-existent status then. Well, what do you need of me? Relationship advice? Getting back together advice?”

Her right cheek throbs suddenly. “It’s not that simple.”

“Oh, Mikasa. If relationships were simple I wouldn’t have only three friends and own a sex shop,” Hange replies in an almost self-depreciating manner. But then she pauses, pulling her hands back to fold around her chest. “No wait, that makes it sound like owning a sex shop was an easy way out. No, no, that’s not it at all. I chose this, because to me sex is interesting. Important.”

“More important than romance?”

She’s not sure where that came from, or her arbitrary decision that coffee and flowers represented romance, but Hange follows her logic well enough.

“Just as important. Or rather, sex _is_ a part of romance. In fact, maybe some people don’t do flowers, or coffee. Maybe for some, sex is enough. Sex could be the starting point, and the catalyst, just as coffee and flowers can be the starting point and catalyst. It doesn’t have to be separate either,” and as Hange continues to explain her point of view, she begins to move around the shop, picking out a small item from a basket on the counter in one hand and swiping another item from a shelf with her other hand before bringing both with her as she returns to Mikasa’s side. “I mean, if you really want coffee and flowers with your sex, here.”

Hange holds out the items towards her, and after the effort she put in collecting them, Mikasa cannot help but feel compelled to hold out her hands and accept. The small square item is exactly what she guessed it would be, having picked out of that very basket herself more than once. Hers had been cherry and watermelon. The one on her hand is coffee. As for the other item, she’s not at all surprised to find it flower themed, in accordance to their conversation, but what she doesn’t expect is for it to be a pair of handcuffs. With flower heads as the cuffs complete with petals all around the circle, and the chain link designed to look like viney stems, with a couple of leaves growing from them too.

The sheer incredulity of both items leaves her unable to decide whether to laugh or cringe. “You have curious merchandise, Hange.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining when you wanted pomegranate flavoured lube.”

“Um—”

“Anyway,” Hange cuts her off, hands coming down upon hers to press the items into her palms. “What I was trying to say is that order doesn’t matter. You can have coffee, flowers, then sex, or sex, flowers, then coffee, or all at once or none at all. Relationships aren’t simple, but they’re worth it because they’re hard.”

Bespectacled eyes stare right into hers then as she absorbs Hange’s words. Hange’s right, of course. Maybe what ‘it’s not that simple’ really means is that she doesn’t know how to re-establish contact with someone with whom she had a primarily physical relationship with having expressed prior a desire for things to be more proper the second time around, not knowing what it even means for them to have a more proper relationship. If it will even work. But she has to be the one to take that step. That she knows. It has to be her.

“So keep these. They’re on me,” Hange says, pushing Mikasa’s hands, and the two items on them, back towards her.

“What? No,” Mikasa tries to resist the push, but the older woman is surprisingly strong. “I don’t have any use for these.”

“Maybe not now,” Hange shoots back, and before Mikasa could even react to the idea that she might one day find a use for handcuffs, _handcuffs_ , Hange speaks the rest of her words with emphasis, and it has her stilling in attention. “But, you’ll do what you must, based on what you feel is right. And if things work out, then maybe these will come in handy. Maybe you come and tell me about it, then I can finally recommend you that new arrival over there which I’m still certain is perfect for you.”

This time she does react, lacing her voice with a tinge of disapproval. It helps hide that maybe, maybe, she does want to look upon that new arrival. “Hange.”

Hange just shrugs it off with a grin. “Or, if things don’t work out, then you can return these to me, if you want. And maybe, we can go grab some real coffee together, and we can talk about it, if you want.” With that Hange releases her hands, placing them akimbo on her waist as her expression softens. “Okay?”

It is somewhat discomfiting to think that perhaps this is why she’s truly here, even though she doesn’t see herself as someone who needs or wants to be told what to do. She already knows. But there is a comfort in listening. Comfort in following. Curling her fingers around the items in her hands, Mikasa slides them into her coat pockets where the cuffs clinks against the keys within.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I initially meant to post this as a oneshot, but it got long. When I first conceptualized it, it was 12k-15k words max, but the more I wrote, the more I wanted to write. Not sure if that's a good thing or not, but in any case, I've split it for length. I can't promise when the next part will be up though, as it is still undergoing some revisions, but at some point soon, definitely! 
> 
> Trivia 1: The chapter title Fight Me, Fuck Me was what I wanted to title the fic initially, but I thought I shouldn't use an expletive in the title. The chapter title of the next chapter was another candidate, but I eventually chose Come Undone because the song really helped me during the writing of this fic in nailing down the tone and strangely enough, in Mikasa's characterization. 
> 
> Trivia 2: I've wanted so long to bring in Hange to the mix. Her role as the proprietor of the sex shop where Mikasa gets her stuff has always been true even in Wicked Game, but there never was an opportunity to mention it. I love the idea of Hange and Mikasa having a mentor-mentee relationship, so I'm glad to finally be able to write it. By the way, I have terrible naming sense and so have left Hange's shop unnamed, but if anyone wants to suggest me some names, please do! If I like it I'll edit it in and credit you for it, of course!
> 
> Trivia 3: Did anyone catch the EreMin hints? Yes, I ship them. 
> 
> As always, comments and feedback appreciated.


End file.
